Friendship is Ageless
by reflectiveless
Summary: This is some seriously touchy feely KidSherlock right here. Sherlock is turned into a kid and looses his memory. FEELS. Sherlock/ John Bromance. (and yea there will be Johnlock). But main focus is on friendship.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"You really shouldn't have come alone Sherlock, don't you know by now that I've always got a sniper in waiting for you?" Moriarty smiled wryly.

The parking structure was dark and reeked of oil being carried through it by the light wind.

"Why should I bring company when it just means your sniper will have two targets instead of one? But it doesn't matter regardless, you're not going to kill me, not today. Besides, how will you ever find out how I survived the fall if you just kill me?"

"Hardly impressive, as if that ruse fooled me for a second, I'm always a step ahead of you, why can't you just see and admit that already?"

"As if you knew, why not have the targets killed then?"

"Wouldn't be as much fun without watching your face as your precious pet died still thinking you're a fraud."

John hid under an older car on the floor above them peeking through the ramp down, it stung to hear not only Moriarty but Sherlock's cold words. It had taken him months to get over the fact that Sherlock had faked his death but he accepted the mad genius back all the same. He positioned his gun carefully knowing he couldn't shoot Moriarty until he knew the position of the sniper he likely brought and knew Sherlock was safe.

"So tell me, if you aren't planning killing anyone today, why did you send me your little love letter to meet you here?"

"I have a little experiment I would like you to try out. You do love experiments don't you Sherlock?" Moriarty's tone was creepishly teasing.

John swallowed hard, he wasn't sure what was going on but he didn't like the sound of it.

Sherlock took a cautious step forward, Moriarty matched the movement, "what sort of _'experiment?'_"

"I was just wondering, if you were willing to die for your pet, would you be willing to forget him to save his life?"

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow until the all telling red dot of a sniper rifle appeared on the floor between the two men and slowly trailed away until it reached the ramp to the second floor like Sherlock feared. He knew it was a mistake to bring John along even as hidden backup, but he didn't want to risk leaving him behind like last time at St. Bart's either.

"At least this time you both get to live. So try it for me? I'll delay killing you for a while at least, though if you really can't remember a thing it might be more fun to watch you suffer as _one of them."_

Sherlock didn't need an explanation for what '_one of them'_ meant. A commoner. Someone without Sherlock's massive intellect. He swallowed hard buck looked at where the red dot was pointing.

"It's alright to come out now Johnny boy, your surprise appearance has already been spoiled anyway." Moriarty called out in his overly high pitched voice.

John had spent the few seconds he had as the two self-proclaimed geniuses battled witts to actually do something useful, text Lestrade to bring the whole police force as back up. He quickly hit the send button before slowly crawling out from under the car, putting his gun down and showing his empty hands.

"Very good, you have this one nicely trained. So what do you think Johnny? Rather be alive and with out your consulting detective or dead and know he still remembers you?" He pulled out a long thin glass vile and lightly shook it menacingly. "Never been tested on a human before though, so results might vary."

"The anti-paradigm 348." Sherlock mumbled almost in monotone but the shimmer in his eyes revealed the slightest hint of fear.

"Ah, I see you've heard of it, so you know the basic idea behind what the believed results are?" Moriarty held the vial closer to Sherlock and took another step forward; Sherlock matched his step.

"_Basic idea_ and _believed results_ aren't very good phrases to be going on wouldn't you agree?"

Moriarty shrugged unsympathetically, "True, but you and I likely have a better concept then your little army doctor does. So unless you want me to you know-" he made his hand into a gun shape and pretended to shoot his temple with poorly made sound affects "then I suggest you take it. It's your choice if you care to explain what it is to your pet while you still can or not."

John looked down at the two men, red dot directly on his forehead now, with a pleading look of confusion.

Sherlock tried desperately to keep his calm and take the vial without his hand shaking, he succeeded for the most part. "It was made as a form of memory eraser. On dogs and rats the affects reduced them to only their earliest memories."

John held in the gasp he so desperately wanted to let out. Years of Sherlock's life could be erased, he would be completely forgotten. He didn't dare look at the entrance of the garage praying that Lestrade would show up soon and would come mostly unnoticed. Sherlock gripped the vial tightly and pulled the cork top off throwing it to the side.

"Don't! Sherlock… just please, don't drink it." John didn't attempt to hide the worry and fear in his voice.

"I wont let them take you from me John."

"But that's what that vial will do anyway…" he trailed off as the detective brought the glass closer to his moth.

"I wont forget you, I promise." Sherlock made a feeble attempt at a smile, John saw though it. He knew Sherlock couldn't promise such a thing.

The moment after the contents were drained and being swallowed Sherlock dropped the vial as it unceremoniously smashed on the stained concrete floor beneath him. In a sudden movement he staggered sideways and clutched at his stomach as a deep baritone moan escaped his lips. Moriarty's smile widened until he could hear the sound of multiple footsteps rapidly approaching.

He looked up John with a scowl, "You've ruined my fun. Well I hope you enjoy your new life." Moriarty turned to make his leave.

John's knuckles were white from the tightness of his fists in horrified anticipation. He waited until he thought the sniper rifle was no longer turned on him then ran to Sherlock side to catch him just before the detective fell to his knees.

"Sherlock! You need to throw up right now, get it out of your system!" he held his friend tightly trying to steady him.

Sherlock attempts to dry heave and he continues to clutch at his stomach, they don't even notice as Lestrade and several police officers approach.

"I can't, it's not working." Sherlock's voice is frantic but after a moment a sort of calm envelopes him.

John watches in horror, "Sherlock?…. " He places a hand on the detectives thin cheek just below the protruding cheek bone, "Do you… remember anything?" He wants to ask if he remembers him but he's too afraid of the answer.

* * *

A/N:

I already wrote the majority of this story, just posting it. Still working on my other stories.

Prepare for feels.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"… yes. I think… I think I'm fine John."

John nearly collapses in relief. "Thank god!" he throws both arms around Sherlock.

The two look up from their crouched position on the floor and Lestrade and various other officers stand looking around clearly uncomfortable with them on the floor practically on top of each other.

"Er, you said there was an emergency?" Lestrade had only seen Sherlock crouched over and dry heaving when trying to quickly get a drug he ingested out of his system, something he didn't want to admit to John as it was years ago now anyway.

"Moriarty-" Sherlock rasped. "Should be fine now, but I think he got away. John," he stumbled to his feet, "Lets go home."

"We should really take you to a hospital-"

"I'm fine, like I said, the drug has never been tested on anything larger then a dog before, clearly the affects do not work on humans. Lets go." His last two words were very forceful.

John nodded and turned to Lestrade, "Thank you, I uh, I think I should get him home now."

Lestrade pressed his lips together in a thin line "Yea, he looks a bit paler then usual. I'll take it from here. There could be a way to track him back down." He knew there wasn't.

Just as John was locking the door of their flat Sherlock clutched at his stomach again and unwillingly let moans escape him.

"Sherlock?! You ok? God… it had a delayed affect…" John helped the detective stumble to the couch where they both sat, John tried to hide his watering eyes as he rubbed circles with his hand onto Sherlock's back and whispered what he thought might be soothing words.

"John- don't let me forget." His voice was small and terrified.

"You've always been a genius, you wont forget anything important and you can always relearn it." he knew lying was no use, but this might comfort him.

"No… not just facts… You. Us. Don't let me forget this." Sherlock pulled John closer by grabbing onto his jacket and looked deep into his eyes.

John gulped, "I'll do my best."

A loud gasp escaped Sherlock's mouth and he thrust his eyes shut. It felt as if every fiber of his being was being ripped apart and reconstructed, bones melting and muscles tearing. He clenched his teeth together so hard he thought he might crack them. Sensing his fear John pulled Sherlock so close that he was now seated on his lap and wrapped his arms around the taller man. John wasn't willing to let go emotionally or physically.

"John…. ah… it… it hurts…" Sherlock buried his face into the crook of John's neck.

"Shh, shh, it's going to be ok."

Sherlock pulled away to look in John's eyes for reassurance again, he could see the worry all over his face. He knew John would stay by his side no matter what, even if he was reduced to infantile memory. The thought was disturbing. He wouldn't even be aware of what was going on around him, but even if he was so mentally regressed he had to be spoon fed, bathed, and watched at all hours of the day, John would be there taking care of him. Sherlock knew it wasn't fair, he would rather be dead then leave John to that fate.

"It's ok Lock, I'm here." John whispered and took the detective's hand in his as his thumb rubbed the side of the thin elegant hand in what could only be called a loving manner.

Sherlock let out a loud shriek of pain and thrust his head forward back to the crook of John's neck. The doctor could feel his shoulder wetten from Sherlock's watering eyes. John didn't let go of the long thin hand but with his other arms he held onto Sherlock's back encouraging their closeness. It occurred to him that they had never been so physically close before, bodies practically melding into one another. Sherlock's hand tightened against John's fiercely before a peculiar sensation took over. Both men instantly pulled back and looked at Sherlock's hand, now just smaller enough to notice. John broke his trance on the hand first and took all of his flatmate in at once noticing how his normally tailored fit clothing were baggy on him now. Not just baggy, but increasingly becoming more so.

"Sh-sherlock? You… you're shrinking…" John didn't believe what he was seeing or even his own words.

"It only been tested on… rats and dogs…" his mind raced "Both of which have a very short adolescence." He looked up into John's confused expression. "They didn't degress just mentally… but also physically, no one noticed because they both age so quickly unlike humans…"

"You can't mean…" John could feel the weight of Sherlock on his lap becoming less and less, Sherlock's face looking younger and younger. The truth was blatant. Sherlock was rapidly becoming younger. "Sherlock! Look at me." He had never been so serious in his life "You have to hold on to your memory, do you understand?" The detective nodded. "We can find a way to bring you back, but you have to keep remembering who you are, your life… me…" John bit his lower lip. He wasn't sure if Sherlock would mentally digress at the same time his body did or not, it could already be too late. He lowered his head in defeat and felt the small body of his best friend lean again his chest. John slowly brought his hand up to stroke the soft black curls. This didn't change things, he would still be here, he would still help Sherlock get back to normal.

Twenty minutes passed in silence as Sherlock sat on John's lap face firmly pressed into stomach. John could feel the steady rhythm of his friend's breathing pattern, he was pretty sure Sherlock had fallen asleep. He placed his hands on the tiny shoulders hidden inside the massive button up shirt.

"Hey there, you asleep?" his voice was soft.

Sherlock rubbed one eye with his hand and slowly opened the other one. "No."

John nearly smiled at the obvious and strangely adorable lie, but he knew what he had to ask next and it broke his heart to do so. "Do you know who I am?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sherlock dropped his hand and let his eyes wonder all over John.

"You're a soldier and a surgeon." His voice was much smaller and higher pitched, matching the child's body.

John could feel a tear falling down his face but he wouldn't allow himself to cry, not now, not in front of what was now the child version of his best friend. "How do know that?"

"Tan line on your wrist and your left leg isn't very good at holding me up like your right one is. Aaaand you have surgeon hands."

He couldn't help but let the corner of his lip curl up just a bit, "You're right. I was an army doctor. Just a doctor now though." He bounced his left leg up a bit indicating Sherlock was right about that bit too. He smile fell back though, "You don't remember me though?"

Sherlock took a closer look, narrowing his eyes, then turned his head to look at the peculiar room around them. "This is where you live. But you don't live alone… Oh cool!" Sherlock jumped up with excitement and got to the floor. Only his shirt remained on him but it was plenty long enough to cover his small body. "A skull! Is it real?" his eyes lighted up.

John let out a sigh, '_well I wasn't expecting this…'_ "It is." He stood up and grabbed the skull letting the younger Sherlock hold it.

"Woooow! Myc wont le' me have a skull." He pouted in a way very reminiscent of how adult Sherlock would.

"Myc? Oooh."

"Mycroft is my brother. He's the best. But he wont let me have what I want." He carefully inspected every square inch of the skull trying to commit it to memory.

"Ha. The best? I would never in a million years think I would live to see the day…" he chuckled bemusingly to himself and barely noticed Sherlock carefully placing the skull on the floor and looking around the flat again.

Spying a framed picture Mrs. Hudson had left on the coffee table Sherlock picked it up and studied it before holding it up, "Him. This is who you live with isn't it?"

It was a holiday photo of John and Sherlock together, Mrs. Hudson had taken it with them both unaware and thought it would be nice to leave it up there. In it Sherlock was crinkling his nose in disgust of John's girlfriend at that time who was just out of the cameras view. John was planning on tricking Sherlock by giving him a box containing progressively smaller boxes inside so he couldn't guess what his present was, the look of satisfied devilish trickery written all over his face. It was a classic Sherlock and John photograph.

John looked down at the image with a hint of sadness, "Yea…"

"You look sad… did he leave you?"

Sherlock caught John quickly looking away before taking the picture from him and putting it back down. "We need to get you properly dressed. Er, stay here, I'll be right back…. Don't… don't touch anything." John didn't want to leave his vulnerable flatmate alone but he also couldn't take a boy that was roughly 5 years old to the store without pants on.

Sherlock too his opportunity to study the flat better and get a better idea as to why he was there and who exactly this army doctor was.

* * *

Half an hour later John came back in with a large back he plopped on the floor before relocking the flat. He was terrified that he would come home to a torn apart flat and a crying child. He didn't. Instead, only a few items appeared to moved around, but carefully, and Sherlock stood in the middle of the room holding the newspaper and looking at it in complete bewilderment.

"Sherlock? What's wrong?"

With out looking up Sherlock stated in an unbelieving tone, "Tha's… tha's me."

"Hm?" John stood over his tiny flatmat and looked down. There on the front cover of the newspaper was an article describing his and Sherlock's last case complete with a photo of the two. The title read "Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes Solves Another Case."

"I'm a consul-…. Consul-… consul-ing…"

"Consulting."

"Tha's wha' I said!" Sherlock's grasp on the paper tightened as he began fuming.

'_He has a lisp?_' John suddenly realized. "Er well… actually…"

"You must be John. If tha's me, why am I small?"

"Well…"

Sherlock dropped the newspaper completely and looked disbelievingly at John. "You're my friend?!"

"Of course I'm-" John was cut off as the small Sherlock grabbed onto his leg to hug him. That's when he remembered people saying Sherlock didn't have friends, apparently they meant ever.

Still holding onto his leg with bright eyes Sherlock looked up, "Are we best friends?"

"The very best." He gave a reassuring smile.

"You're much better then a skull." John could definitely see the kid and adult similarities.

John leaned down to be eye level with Sherlock, "Well thank you." Both of their eyes wondered back to the newspaper now on the floor. "Plus you're just about the smartest and coolest person alive. Did you know that?"

"Obviously I'm the smartes'… but Jawn, why am I an adult in the paper and photographs?"

"Er, well, because you are an adult." John could see Sherlock was clearly confused, "Well you were, Mor- this bad guy made your drink something that made you a kid again."

"Like a villain?"

John nodded, "Arch nemesis actually… but I'm going to fix it ok?"

Sherlock nodded. "So I really live here with you?"

_'This might not be so bad.'_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sherlock wondered over to the bag filled with kids clothes and picked out an outfit similar to what he typically wore. "We could track down my arch nemeses and make him turn me back." He dressed himself without leaving the room.

John sighed and averted his eyes, "I don't think it really works like that Lock. He's really dangerous. Besides, it wouldn't be a good idea if he found out you were turned into a kid."

"He doesn' know I'm a kid?"

"Nope. Just me. Not really sure how I can breech the topic to people…"

"John! Lets go to the zoo! Please? That would be so much fun! John this is so cool being adults, we can do whatever we want! I can stay up to 10 if I want!"

John couldn't contain the joy of listening to kid Sherlock explain why being an '_adult'_ was so great. "But you're not an adult" he pointed out while snickering.

Sherlock blinked. "You said yourself that I am. Just because I'm shrunk now doesn't mean I'm not. Besides, you're my best friend and you're an adult. So it's ok. You'll take me to the zoo." He beamed. "You will take me wont you?"

"Of course. I guess there's no harm in doing a few things you'll better enjoy now before we find a way to make you an adult again."

"Lets go then!"

"It's already three, we wont even be there for long before it gets dark."

"But you wan' me to have fun don' you? Before I'm an adult again?" Even kid Sherlock knew how to be manipulative.

John knew he was probably being played but he didn't want to spend the following day at the zoo if it meant a delay in getting Sherlock back, "Oh alright, but when it gets dark we have to leave ok?"

Sherlock nodded and head for the door.

"And your clothes are all over the place." John kneeled to pick the shirt and pants off the floor by the couch feeling something odd in the pants pocket, "What…" he pulled out a vial similar to the one Moriarty had forced Sherlock to take. "Where did you get this?"

"Get what? What's that?"

'Stupid, he wouldn't remember. Probably picked it off Moriarty when he had the chance.' "Nothing." He quickly put it in his pocket, no telling who could steal it out of the flat and it could help in curing Sherlock if there's a way to find the reverse effects of the chemical.

John never would have guessed how much fun going to the zoo with Sherlock would be. Everything seemed to amaze the young boy and John would quiz him on his knowledge of the various animals.

"And how tall are Giraffes?"

"Between five and six meters."

"And what about elephants?"

"Four. And they weigh seven thousand kilograms."

"Very good! You're very smart Sherlock." John brought his hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"Tha's all easy stuff."

"Oh? And how many planets are there?"

Sherlock let out an annoyed huff. "Nine. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. Wha'? Why are you smiling?"

"Pluto isn't a planet."

Sherlock scrunched his nose up similar to how he looked in his holiday photo as an adult. "Wha'? Of course Pluto is a planet!"

"Nope, it's actually just a cluster of stars,"

"Tha's the stupidest thing-! The solar system is stupid John. I'm deleting it!"

_'Ah. That's why he did it.'_ "So, what's your favorite animal then?"

Sherlock bit his lip in deep thought. "Bees."

"Bees? I didn't know that… well, they don't have bees at the zoo I'm afraid. Second favorite?" John spied an ice cream stand and made his way over to it. "Two please." He handed one cone down to the grabby hands of his young friend and paid paid.

"Bats. They're a lot like bees." He licked at his cone.

"Bats? Actually I think there is a fruit bat exhibit… wait, how are they like bees?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as if to say _'really John? I'm five years old and I'm smarter then you.'_ "They fly and live in big families. Without out them the agricultural system would fail- except they eat the bad bugs instead of pollinating flowers, and they're just really cool."

"Ah, makes sense. Explains why you have a taxidermy one." John spotted the bat exhibit and started making his way there.

"I do?! John! I have the best life!" he hurried closer to the bats and watched them in aw.

John also watched the bats but with a different sort of appreciation. They were highly misunderstood creatures. The bug eating ones perfectly balanced the fragile agricultural system like Sherlock had said. It's true that there are pesticides but they don't kill nearly enough bugs to prevent crops from being destroyed. People feared them for no reason, never understanding how much they contributed to society. All because of odd sleeping habits, their typical dark colorings, the way they flit around so fast while on the hunt. John smiled, Sherlock was very much like that himself. The only difference being that bats were typically social creatures that flocked together and Sherlock was alone in the world. It was no wonder why he liked them.

John peered down at tiny hands grabbing at his jacket; they had both finished their ice cream cones by then. "Where do you want to go now? There's penguins by the-"

"Those two men over there-" Sherlock's voice was barely above a whisper "They kidnapped a little girl."

John quickly but subtly looked at the two men Sherlock gestured to, both were much taller then he was and looked strong. "How do you-?"

"The newspaper today, there was a picture of the one wearing the hat and it said he had an unknown accomplice. See how they're not looking at any of the animals? Why would two adults come to the zoo and not be interested in the exhibits?"

"Shit you're right… uh… don't use that word."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We got to follow them, maybe we can find out what they did with the girl."

"Whoah, hold on, should we just call the police?"

"And let the accomplice get away? Besides, he wont just tell them what he did with the girl, but if we follow them secretly then we can find out and have them arrested."

"That awkward moment when a five year old has a better plan then you…" John mumbled, "Fine, but we have to be careful about this."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

John and Sherlock followed the shady pair for a while around the zoo always staying several meters away. John didn't like that the sun was already going down by the time the pair was headed towards the parking lot. It was trickier following them there without being seen but Sherlock was confident that he could pull it off. One of the men stopped and waited by the trashcans as his accomplice fetched something from the trunk of the car. Sherlock held out his hand to give John the 'wait' symbol. The accomplice was brandishing a massive knife and the two men went smiling back into the zoo.

"Shi- Darn. We can't just let them kidnap another kid."

"Come on, we gotta keep following them" Sherlock quickly trailed after them but by now the zoo was mostly empty.

John followed his pint size friend for a while until he came to an abrupt stop at a shadowy corner facing the tiger pit. "Sherlock, what is it?" As he stepped closer he could see the two men crouched down talking to a little girl who looked scared- lost her parents he figured. John stepped cautiously forward pushing Sherlock behind him. It wasn't until he saw one of the men pull the knife from his back pocket that he rushed forward and plunger at the man.

"Get the hell away from her you creep!" John grabbed the hand holding the dagged but was meet with another hand squeezing tightly at his throat.

From behind him he could hear the girl scream as the second man grabbed her. Sherlock didn't hesitate for a second as he came to John's aid and punched the man grabbing the girl straight in the testicles. He dropped the girl who ran for her life and fell to one knee as he yelped in pain.

"You little shit!" The man grabbed Sherlock by the collar and swiftly held him over the cage.

John twisted the knife wielding hand of the other attacker just right causing strikes of pain through his arm, realizing his other hand from around John's neck. But the second he saw Sherlock hanging dangerously over the pit by the strings of his shirt he attempted to rush forward but was grabbed by the waist.

"Oh no you don't. Ya shoulda thought of yer own kid before tryin ta rescue another."

"John!" Sherlock rasped out as he struggled to get free.

John pulled with all his force to get towards the detective but only succeeded just after the second man dropped him. Sherlock fell with a small thud into the tiger pit, soft grass breaking his fall. The two men ganged up on John, one punching him hard in the face and the other grabbing his phone out of his pocket and smashing it on the ground. John spat the accumulating blood in his mouth out and proceeded to throw several punches of his own. It was no use against two of them though and the larger of the pair in an effort to end the small mad man's solo fight pushed up against the tiger pit where John finally lost his balance and fell in.

"Lets go, they're both dead anyway." John and Sherlock could hear the sound of feet running away high above their heads followed by the low growling of a tiger much closer to them.

They both shot looks all around the enclosure. There were five tigers total, it was likely that some of them were asleep but they could only spot two lazily whipping their tails perched on rocks.

"Stay here, I'm going to see if there's a way out." John crouched down low checking the perimeter of the small rock they had both landed by.

"John… you're bleeding…"

John wiped some of the blood away from his mouth with the back of his fist. "I'm fine, promise. I was a soldier after all." He slowly crept forward but as he did a distant low rustle in the tall grass quickly became a massive tiger growling fiercely in his face. He barely had time to scramble back to his rock against the wall. The tiger stayed near the rock and waited for them to move again; slowly wagging it's tail back and forth in anticipation.

Hours passed and the tiger still waited for them. Eventually the zoo lights were all turned off as their waited out their fates in the ambient lighting of the stars, barely able to make out the glow of the predator's eyes. An hour later and the two watching orbs dimmed until they were both sure the tiger had fallen asleep waiting. If they had been in the wild it was likely the creature wouldn't have given up even after days, but a well fed zoo animal though just as deadly, has the luxury of calling it quits in favor of a cat nap.

Sherlock gave John's sleeve a light tug forward. It was a true testament to both men's sleuthing abilities to quietly walk past the sleeping tiger and closer to a large rock against the main building where the zoo keepers would come in and out to feed the creatures. They were able to squeeze close enough behind the rock to make out an older entrance that had been blocked off. Sherlock was just a hair too big to fit though.

"You need to get through that hole, then you can come around to the main entrance and open it, can you do that?" John's voice was barely audible.

"I'm trying, I'm too big."

"Try harder, one of those things could eat us at any minute. They hunt at night."

"I know tha'! But I won' fit." Sherlock stiffened at the sound of another low growl this one further away then before. "John we're going to die!" he wrapped his arm around John's leg.

"No we wont, it will be ok." He felt for his phone that now lay smashed in pieces above the pit and scowled, but his hand brushed against something he had forgotten about. "Oh… Sherlock, look at me. You are a very smart and intelligent boy. You can take care of yourself right?"

The moon rose slightly higher letting Sherlock see John's face a little better, it was filled with concern. Sherlock nodded. "I can… but, what are you planning?"

They could hear two tigers in the grass near by sniffing about now.

John pulled out the vial, "This is the stuff that made you a kid."

"Well you can't make the tigers drink it." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Not them… if you can't fit through the hole… I'll do it and I'll open the door to get you out of here too."

"You're not thinking of…"

"I have to. Sherlock… er, I was always small for my size. I was smaller then you are at your age. I could fit. Just… you're a lot smarter then I was and probably more mature."

Sherlock nodded in understanding, "It's ok. I can watch over you. But… you'll forget who I am. You wont know that we're friends and… you'll treat me like a freak like everyone else does."

John put his hand under Sherlock's chin to bring his face up. "I would never think that, I swear." From his back pocket he pulled out his wallet and a pen. Inside the wallet was a newspaper clipping containing a picture of them from one of their cases. On the back he wrote. 'Sherlock and John, best friends no matter what.' He placed the clipping back in the wallet and handed it to Sherlock. "You better be in charge of this from now on. Use the cash and cards if you need to. Use that picture for me if you need to. Once we're out find your brother Mycroft- he uh… looks different now though. If you can't find him then call the police and ask for Detective Inspector Lestrade ok?"

"I will." Sherlock carefully put the wallet in his own pocket. "I'll take care of you."

John smiled, "I know you will. Remember, we won't be like this forever. We'll both remember who we are eventually… and each other."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

John let out a heavy breath before uncapping the vial and drinking it quickly. He didn't think he could handle second-guessing his decision. In seconds he was doubled over on the floor with a hand to his mouth suppressing moans of pain least the tigers hear him. Sherlock took his larger hand and rubbed it soothingly. He was still afraid that once John forgot who he was they would stop being friends, but he would be there for John anyway.

A few minutes passed before a shriek threatened to rip John's throat apart. Even Sherlock could sense it coming and he forced the taller man's head down into his lap to further muffle the sound. It was then that John's body slowly began shrinking. Sherlock had no memory of it happening to him so he watched mystified and brought John's face back up amazed by how much younger he looked and continued to get. After only a few moments and the process wasn't complete John fell deep asleep. Sherlock waited until he was sure John was finished shrinking and he carefully shook him awake.

"John? Wake up…"

"Hm? Where am I?" John stood not understanding why he was wearing nothing but an oversized jumper. "Who are you?"

Sherlock could only remember that one afternoon and night that he and John had spent together, but it had meant the world to him. He couldn't think of a happier day in his life and realized '_that's what it's like to have a friend.'_ So despite the little he knew this man, the words still stung. Hope of a friendship quickly dematerializing before his eyes. He cleared his throat to sound more authoritive, it was adult soldier John that gave him the orders to be in charge and watch over kid John after all and he wasn't about to let his friend down.

"I will explain everything in time, but for now all you need to know is that we are trapped in a tiger cage at the zoo and I need you to crawl though that hole and open the main door to the cage on the other side of this rock before either of us is eaten." _'That actually sounded like I was cool…'_

John's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "Tigers?!"

"Shhh, keep it down or they will hear us. Just go through that hole and hurry."

"ummm…. Ok… shouldn't we just call for an adult?" John's voice was very shaky.

Sherlock sighed, "There aren't any here…" '_anymore..' _he thought painfully "But I'm practically an adult myself and trust me, it's ok."

John looked at this strange kid skeptically, "No you're not you're probably as old as I am." But he looked at the hole and went for it all the same, "help!" Sherlock lifted the smaller boy up so he could climb through.

"Ok, now go around and open the door!"

"But how are you going to get to it if there's tigers?"

"I'll figure it out, just go." He crawled his way through the tight crease between the rock and the wall, barely able to squeeze through but he was able to see the door. He waited until he saw John's small silhouette awkwardly dressed in a large jumper when he threw a rock as hard as he could at the other end of the pit. He wasn't sure if his plan worked because he darted for the door as soon as it opened without looking back. The two pushed it back closed with all their might and collapsed onto the floor panting together.

"We made it." Sherlock knew John's plan would work. He was actually far more brilliant then he gave himself credit for.

"But how did we get here?"

Sherlock stood, taking in the room around him. There was a small lost and found box filled with various items. Sherlock pulled out a small kids shirt and pants that had clearly been purchased at the zoo and someone forgot about them.

"Get dressed, we have to go."

John huffed angrily but began putting the clothes on, still not sure why he was wearing an over sized jumper to begin with. "I don't even know your name."

"The name is Sherlock Holmes and we need to find my brother."

A back door had been left open the day before and they used it for their great escape. But wondering the streets at night looking for a pay phone in a cell phone based world for two young boys was tiring at best. They ended up seated at the end of a large trash bin and spent the night leaning against each other until they fell asleep.

John knew he would be asleep in mere seconds, "Sherlock? How did we get in that tiger cage anyway?"

Sherlock's eyes were already closed but he was hanging to consciousness by a string. "We stopped two kidnappers from abduc-ing a girl bu' they threw us in."

"Wow. So we're like heroes then?"

"I dunno. I guess."

"Want to be friends?"

Sherlock's eyes sprang open. "R-really?"

"Yea. You're really cool…" John's eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep against his new/ old friend's shoulder.

* * *

A/N: Sorry is Sherlock and John seem OOC, I just feel like 'cool' is such a kid thing to say. They have child mentalities at this point, so it seems logical to me. (I mean... I still say 'cool'...)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sherlock hadn't slept so peacefully since he was, well, a kid. He opened his eyes to the first rays on sunlight coming down the ally and was surprised to find the much smaller John curled up in his lap.

"John, John, wake up!" he lightly shook his friend.

"M' sleepin."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "We probably shouldn't have slept in an ally… but come on, we still have to find Myc."

John got up with a yawn, too young and naïve to care that he spent the night on someone's lap. "Who's Mike?"

"Mycroft- my brother. You- er- I was told we should find him."

"What if we can't?"

"Then I'm suppose to find a Detec-ive Inspec-or Les- Le-" Sherlock stopped to scowl at John who was giggling at the way his friend fumbled with his words and lisp. "Shu' up! Is not funny!" He crossed his arms and plopped back down to the floor.

Trying to muffle his own giggles John sat besides the taller boy "Sorry Sherlock, I didn't mean it to be mean. You're just different."

"I'm not differen'. " He clenched his teeth waiting for the teasing to come.

"I meant like special. M' sorry I laughed. I still like you."

Sherlock stood but avoided eye contact as he brushed off his clothes, "Come on, we need to go find D.I. Les-rade."

John followed gleefully realizing he had been forgiven.

As luck, or rather bad luck for some and good for others, should have it, after walking only two blocks they came across a roped off area with crime scene tape.

"You think he could be here?"

"Don' be ridiculous John, the odds of him being here are very unlikely-"

"Lestrade, you're here early, the body is just inside-" A police officer lifted the yellow tape across from them for a man of average height with gray hair and a dark coat.

Sherlock grabbed John's hand and easily snuck past the police tape unnoticed. Just as Lestrade was entering the building he felt small hands tugging on his coat. He turned to find a small blond boy smiling up at him, he crouched closer with a smile of his own.

"You really shouldn't be here, see that crime tape? That means it's off limits."

"M' lost."

"Oh… well, lets just see if we can find your mommy or daddy around anywhere shall we?"

John nodded vigorously, but a strange thought started to cloud his mind. Something wasn't right. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen either of his parents and somehow he just knew he never would again.

As Lestrade stood he felt the too familiar sensation of being pick pocketed, he turned quickly expecting to catch Sherlock red handed _'git probably put this kid up to distracting me too._' But instead found a second young boy with dark curly hair.

Sherlock opened the wallet and studied the ID inside. "So you are Lestrade?"

"Give me that!" He snatched the wallet back, "It's a crime to take somebody's things you know." His tone was much harsher now.

Sherlock tried to think of a quick reason why the Inspector should listen to them and remembered the article clipping he saw, "Dr. Watson sent us to find you." Technically he was telling the truth after all.

Lestrade stopped and blinked, "He did? Er, what did he want?"

Sherlock eyed John, it would probably be best if they had an adult on their side if they wanted their old bodies and memory back, despite how untrustworthy nearly all adults are. '_Except John, John was pretty ok.'_

"We need to tell you in private. Is importan'."

Lestrade sighed, "Well ok, but you better not be pulling my leg here." He couldn't help but to think of how familiar the two boys looked.

* * *

Scotland Yard was a short walking distance from the crime scene, Lestrade had led the boys into his office with only a few stifled giggles from other employees.

"Better cuff those two! Could be dangerous criminals!" one officer called out sending John into a fit of giggles.

Once inside the small office Lestrade shut the door but made sure all the blinds were up, he didn't exactly want people thinking he was doing anything strange in there. John plopped himself onto of the desk as Sherlock stood on a chair in attempts to reach the D.I.'s height.

"Ok boys, what's going on?"

"Hungry."

"John not now, we'll get food after. De- De-ec-"

Lestrade raise an eyebrow, it was an odd coincidence that the young blond was also named John, but it was a common name after all, "You can just call me Greg." He felt bad the boy seemed to be struggling with 't's'.

Sherlock cleared his throat, he didn't want to be patronized but the shorter name did relieve him, "Mr. Greg- John told me to find you if I couldn't find Mycroft."

"Oh… Well Mr. Holmes is a very busy man, why exactly-"

"He's my brother."

Lestrade was baffled, once he thought about the family resemblance was definitely there- though more to the younger Holmes brother then the older, but he also knew that logically this boy was likely to young to have the same parents.

"You're thinking too loud."

"Thinking too…." Lestrade's mind raced. His eyes jetted back and forth between the two boys. '_Mycroft's little brother'_ and '_John'_. "Nope. Nope. Noooope. This is some sort of a prank. Who put you boys up to this?"

John looked at Sherlock in confusion, "What's he talkin' about?"

"Do you…? Know us?" Sherlock pulled the wallet out and took out the clipping older John gave him for safe keeping. Right there in the article it mentioned a DI Lestrade. Sherlock's eyes grew wider. "Are we friends too?"

"Just hold on, are you trying to tell me that you two are-?"

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson- um, I haven't really explained it to him yet though." Sherlock's eyes darted towards John dangling his feet off the side of the desk.

"Explained what?"

"Oh lord… no, no, this is some kind of a weird sick joke." Lestrade picked up his office phone, he knew this was a crazy long shot, but he did have to make sure.

* * *

The first two calls were useless, neither John nor Sherlock answered their phones. Nest he tried Mrs. Hudson.

"This is Lestrade, er, when was the last time you saw Sherlock or John?"

"Oh those two, they didn't even come home last night. I'm never sure if I should be worried about them or just assume they spent the night chasing criminals… or in a hotel suit somewhere."

"Uh, yea…. More then I need to know… right, well, if you see them can you tell them to give me a ring?"

"Of course deary."

Next Lestrade tried calling John at work but the main office said he hadn't come in today but also hadn't called in that he wasn't coming. Things were starting to look bad. He looked at the impossible pair as they huddled together on the floor.

* * *

"What's he doing?" John watched the D.I. frantically make phone call after phone call.

"He's trying to make sure we really are who we said we are." Sherlock helped John come down from the desk.

"Why wouldn't we be?"

"Well… remember how we ended up in that tiger pit last night?"

"Yea… well, no. I mean, I remember it but nothing much before that."

Sherlock handed over the news clipping to his friend. "That's us."

"Don't be redicu- ridicules. These are old people."

"Not that old… And it's true. Look at the name."

John couldn't deny that was his name was right there in the paper next to a man much older then him. "That can't be me. I'm going to be really tall when I grow up."

Sherlock snickered. "That's what you looked like yesterday. And that-" he pointed to himself in the picture still not sure how he felt about what the older him looked like "is me."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because you told me when you were still an adult. But then you had to shrink yourself so that we could get away from the tigers. You told me that I would be in charge after you were a kid too."

John gave a skeptical look not fully believing he would tell someone else to be in charge of him. "That's really us then?"

"Yup, look, you wrote this on the back." Sherlock turned the clipping over to reveal John's inscription.

"So we've always been best friends?" he smiled.

"I guess so. We even live together."

"We do?!"

Lestrade hung the phone up in defeat. He either had to accept an unacceptable reality or try to think of more people he could pester about the location of Sherlock and John. He looked down at the two boys, they really did have a striking resemblance to their older counterparts.

"Well, I tried calling Mycroft but it seems he's out and can't be contacted right now. Probably at that damn dionogess club…" he mattered the last part.

"Mr. Greg, do we really live together?" John's eyes were huge.

"Er, well, yea…" Lestrade decided to just accepted the bizarre situation he now found himself in. "You do."

"See! Isn't that cool?" Sherlock excitedly jumped up and down. '_Just wait till he sees my skull.'_

"But friends don't live together…" John thought about all the adults that he knew and who they lived with.

"Sure they do. Why else do we have a flat with all our stuff in it?"

"Mr. Greg, do you live with your best friend?"

Lestrade patted John's head, "I live with my wife… er, well I did…"

Sherlock leaned closer to John "They broke up."

"Oooh. M' sorry Mr. Greg. She don't deserve you."

Lestrade smiled uneasily, '_That's what John said a month ago more or less…' _

"But see, people don't live with friends Sherlock, they live with wives."

Both small pairs of eyes looked up at Lestrade at the same time as they spoke in unison, "Do we have wives?" Sherlock seemed slightly more disgusted by the idea but John was also not comforted by the possibility of be married to some girl he was probably expected to be intimate with, like _kissing._

Lestrade couldn't help but to laugh at their clearly disgusted faces. "Ha, no, I guess that sort of thing isn't for everyone." He ruffled both of their hair. "Hmm… so did this happen after yesterday morning with Moriarty?" Greg's voice was distant and deep in thought, remembering the way Sherlock looked as he dry heaved in the parking structure.

"Who's Moriarty?" John jumped into Lestrade's lap as he leaned back in his chair.

"oof! John, you can't just jump on me like that." He tried regaining his composure but he could feel Sherlock tugging at his leg considering climbing up as well.

"Is that my arch nemeses?"

"People don't have arch nemeses Sherlock." _'Maybe I should try to call Mycroft again…'_

"I do. I'm the world's only consul-ing detec-ive."

"Oi, you gotta work on your speech kiddo." Lestrade grabbed his desk phone, it was worth a shot.

John stuck his tongue out at him, "Greg is rude." Sherlock gleefully joined in.

"Is Mycroft Holmes there? It's uh, an emergency. Tell him it's about his brother." Lestrade patiently waited through horrid elevator music until Mycroft picked up.

"Detective Inspector, what is it Sherlock has done this time?"

"Well he-"

Sherlock climbed into Lestrade's lap and took the phone, leaping back off again knowing John would keep him in place, "Myc! Myc! I missed you soooo much!"

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

"Mycroft?"

"Sh-… Sherlock?" he asked in a low whisper.

Sherlock giggled, "You sound funny."

"Sherlock… this is very important. Stay where you are ok? Stay with Inspector Lestrade and I will be right there."

"Hurry? And don't stop for cake, I mean it."

Mycroft let out a light sigh, "I wont."

* * *

A/N: I had a horrible realization about John last night. If it's stated in the show that Harry is his only living relative then doesn't that mean his parents are both dead? It would explain why he joined the war and his sister is an alcoholic…

I'm gonna try to finish this story by the end of the week. Dunno if I will succeed though, I still have my other two stories to update.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Mycroft stopped just outside of Lestrade's office. He wasn't sure what exactly he would see once he walked inside. He only knew that he would recognize that mostly innocent voice of his kid brother anywhere… even if it was impossible. Obviously something had happened to Sherlock, but what? Did he think he was a child again? Had he really forgotten all the vicious fights they had? Mycroft sucked in a deep breath of air and knocked.

Lestrade opened it blocking the view from the door with his body, "Oh thank god you're here, they're driving me crazy."

"They?" Mycroft stepped inside as Lestrade opened the door further for him. He was sure his jaw had dropped to the floor when he saw the kid versions of his own brother and his flatmate making a tent out of an orange shock blanket and Lestrade's desk.

Sherlock looked up with wide eyes, "Wha' did you do to my brother!?"

"What happened to you?" Mycroft kneeled down, it had been so many years since he saw Sherlock so young and fragile.

"Me?! You're old!" he unsympathetically poked Mycroft's stomach "and fat. I told you to stop eating cake."

"and John… Lestrade what happened to them?"

"Not sure really. Yesterday they had a run in with Moriarty, Sherlock seemed sick afterwards but insisted on going home instead of the hospital. Honestly I've just been waiting for someone to tell me the joke is over and I've been played. Is that really Sherlock?"

"I can assure you Lestrade, that is in fact my brother." He felt two small hands tug on his suit and looked down at the blond haired boy.

"Who do you live with?"

"Oi, back to that one now. Might as well answer him, he can be persistent."

"Erm, I live alone."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not romantically involved with anyone."

"Oooh… so that's why people live together?" John's question peeked Sherlock's interest.

"For the most part yes. Now, we need to find a way to-'

Sherlock broke Mycroft's concentration with his overly loud voice "Is John my boyfriend?"

Lestrade tried to hide his amused smile.

"Neither of us are married or have any form of significant other and we have been living together for years." He brought his hands up to his classic thinking position, the rounder face and large eyes caused the position to lose it's mystic and just look adorable instead.

Mycroft shot Lestrade a look, for a brief moment they both foolishly expected John to quickly deny that he was gay like he always did. Instead he fixed part of the make shift tent and turned to face the two adults also awaiting an answer.

"Now brother, you're just friends." _'just'_ Mycroft nearly laughed, what he wouldn't have done for his brother to have at least one friend the first time he was a child. Maybe he would have turned out differently, been more human. Maybe there once loving relationship wouldn't have all gone to hell- or was that Mycroft's fault entirely? Never being there when it counted. He knew it was his fault.

"I'm going to take you and John home now, Sherlock, do you understand what's going on?"

"Of course," he eyed his much older brother up and down, "I was somehow turned into a kid again and lost my memories as an adult as a result. John told me the best thing to do was to contact you and you obviously have a lot of money now and an important well paying job- likely one with some amount of power behind it too. But he was also… hesitant? Croft…" his words were cold and purely factual until now when a slight undercurrent of sad peeked through, "Do you… not like me any more?"

Behind his back people referred to Mycroft as '_The Iceman.'_ This was the worst moment for him to remember the countless hours he had sold his own brother out to Moriarty all that time ago. Sherlock was too young to remember all the nights Mycroft said he would be home from school early to play with him, all the music recitals he had missed, and of course, the time he caused his little brother to jump off the roof of St. Bart's. It was no wonder that little boy would grow up to hate him so much. He gathered the small form up in his arms, "I have always loved you and I always will, even if I'm a terrible brother at times."

Sentiment was not always a chemical defect found in the loosing side, evidently.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"I'm really an adult then?" John whispered in the back seat to Sherlock, he had been scolded many times as a child when he and Harry talked to loud while in a car, distracting his parents from driving.

"You saw the picture yourself." Sherlock answered matter of factly, admiring the interesting similarities and differences of the older and younger versions of his friend.

John brought out the picture from his pocket, "Then that's you?" he pointed at the taller man. "You look… scary. Like a principal." They both giggled quietly. "What was I like?" it sounded more thoughtful then a question from a boy his age should sound.

"You were the best." Sherlock could say honestly. "Not like an _adult_ at all." The word sounded like an insult to them.

"That's because neither of you act like adults." Mycroft sighed watching them silently for a few moments as the car continued on, but this only made the two boys smile brighter. They had previously ignored his presence sitting opposite them in the car, a black window separating the three from the driver.

"Why do you act like one of them now?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Croooft." He extended the name out, "You're not that much older then me."

The older man had a faint yet amused smile, "Well I am now."

The picture was real enough, and it seemed as though everyone really did believe his unusual friend about his strange story, but could it really be true that John was an adult only yesterday? "Mr. Mycroft?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes from the thought of any calling stupid Myc _'Mr.'_

He was an adult now, technically. He should be able to take care of himself, but a small fear still loomed in his mind. "Shouldn't I call my family?"

Sherlock noticed Mycroft could no longer meet John's eyes. He had previously been looking at both of them very keenly, likely because he was noting the difference of their adult versions to the child versions like Sherlock had to John. why had he stopped now? He wasn't sure why, but a small voice popped in his head. "Sentiment." It sounded strangely like older John's voice. But why 'sentiment?' What did that have to do with John asking about…

The answer was painfully obvious.

'Army doctor. Single. Had barely noticeable limp- likely invalidated from the war but was now living in a small apartment with another man who he was not romantically involved with. Poor then. None of the items in the flat seemed to hold any importance to him other then photos as everything else was my taste- an unusual taste to be shared by two people. This all added up to no one to turn to for money. Possibly because he had no relatives he got along with, but given his age it was also possible that… '

Another glance at Mycroft's face and his lack of answering John's question confirmed it. John's parents were both dead.

Sherlock instinctually took John's hand in his and scooted closer to him. That sinking feeling from back at the crime scene when they first ran into Lestrade came back.

"John? Do you know how old you are? Your real age I mean."

John nodded, "I was 25 when they died, that's when I joined the army."

Mycroft was greatly taken aback. "You… remember?"

"No." It had only just flashed in his mind a moment before he said it. Like a movie in fast forward.

Sherlock wondered if his parents were dead too, he was too afraid to ask.

Mycroft turned to his brother who knew just a smallest hint about the drug, "Why is John so much younger then you?"

John furrowed his brow in a menacing manner, "We're the same age." He dramatically crossed his arms.

"Ah, just small for your age then?"

"You're fat." Sherlock jumped in defending his John.

The three were too occupied in a death glare staring fight to see the car headed straight for them. It was a an SUV that had gone just a moment after the intersection light turned red, slamming into the side of the sleek black car. The situation was strangely familiar to John, the way things seemed to slow down as the car tilted to the side and began to turn over until flipping completely and landing on the side as it scraped the street. It was his soldier instincts kicking in, he released his seat belt quickly and found Sherlock was no longer in the car- he had refused to wear his seatbelt when they first got in. Laying just outside the car window face down on the pavement was the motionless body of his friend.

The same quick reel of footage continued to play over and over in his mind as he climbed up and out of the car. It was a man standing on the top of a building, a moment later he wouldn't be.

A man stepped out of the SUV, John hid behind the rubble peering at him. He leaned down close to the small unconscious body and grinned.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A/N: Public Service Announcement: Make sure your child wears a seatbelt.

* * *

The man scooped up the unconscious mini detective. John watched, motionless and filled with fear, he knew he should do something to stop this man, but he knew he was too small to fight.

"Got away from the tigers eh? Well your in the fryin pan now kiddo, seems our boss has it out for ya."

He unceremoniously flung the limp form into the back seat of his damaged car and got back in. John watched as the car speed off down the street, he was helpless.

"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes!" The driver was finally able to free himself from the over turned vehicle and dialed for the police.

* * *

Mycroft was still unconscious when the ambulance came. A paramedic checked John over but he only had a few scrapes and a cut on his arm from when he climbed out of the car. Near by an officer questioned the driver.

"I dunno sir, I think there were two kids in back with Mr. Holmes, I didn't pay them much attention though."

"And you say the other driver got out, looked at the wreck and left?" He was jotting down notes on his notepad.

"That right sir. He might have taken the other kid, Im not too sure, I couldn't see it very well."

John had been focused on the conversation and didn't noticed as an officer taped the paramedic's shoulder as he adjusted John's shock blanket. "Moment alone?" The paramedic nodded.

"Hey there little guy, how are you feeling?"

"Like shite."

The officer frowned. "Erm, right…"

"I'll take it from here," Lestrade approached, "I know the kid."

"Who the hell raised that kid?" the officer muttered under his breath as he left.

Lestrade crouched down so they were eye level, "Are you ok?"

John looked down and shook his head 'no' and the D.I. frowned.

"Hurt?" Another 'no' gesture. "Sherlock?" John looked back up, eyes large and water, 'yes.'

"Shh, it's going to be ok." He wrapped his arms around John's small form with the orange blanket still on him and picked him up, pressing the boy lightly to his chest. "We're going to find him."

"Mycroft?" John sounded every bit like the child he looked like.

Lestrade rubbed the back of his head, "He'll be ok, he's gone to the hospital for now."

* * *

Sherlock woke with a throbbing in his head. It hurt too much to think about how he came to be in the dimly lit room with peeling wall paper. One moment he was safe in his brother's car with John by his side and the next his eyes were dimming with his head against asphalt. He tried sitting up and propping his back against the wall but a searing pain streaked through his back.

"Are you ok?" a small voice whispered from across the room.

Sherlock instantly regretted jerking his head up, only then feeling the dried blood on the right of his face and partially clouding his vision. "Where are you?" He began taking inventory of his injuries. Head wound. Possible concussion. Right arm bruised but otherwise fine. Stiff back- possibly from being transported after the fact. Badly swollen ankle. Overall- highly manageable.

A small girl stepped closer and better into his vision, Sherlock recognized her instantly. "Kidnapped for four days now."

She nodded.

Sherlock let out a small sigh, that's why he had been abducted. "But how did they know I would be in that car?…" he let his thoughts trail off as he noticed the girl cocking her head at him.

"I'm Cora." She was filthy and clearly not being well taken care of or fed regularly.

He eyed her over before responding, "Sherlock." It was strange to logically know he was an adult in somewhere in his thirties and at the same time the same age as this girl.

A loud creak came from just outside the bolted door sending Cora struggling closer to Sherlock for defense. '_They beat her then.'_

John. Where was John? If these are the kidnappers from the zoo then they wouldn't have recognized him now that he was a kid giving us the advantage. Except that John would have forgotten what they looked like… But still, at least John is safe. Is he safe? He was in the car when it was hit after all.

Two sets of footsteps nervously paced outside the door. Finally a third set came became audible, still walking forward in a more determined manner. They were much softer then the other two pairs of feet. They paused, the door creaked open. He wasn't one of the two kidnappers whom Sherlock knew probably accounted for the other footsteps he heard, this man was much shorter. Something akin to pure delight filled his face as he took Sherlock in and somehow the boy had the over whelming feeling he had met this man before.

"My my, look at you."

Sherlock clenched his teeth, he still couldn't remember anything of his former life, but he knew he would likely be embarrassed to be seen as a frail child now. A quick thought popped to his mind, '_Is this the man John warned me about?'_

"Did you make a little friend?" his voice was a high pitched hiss. Sherlock tried to draw his memories for where he knew that peculiar voice from, but he all he could compare it to was the judge turned villain from 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit,' curing his child's mind.

"I know who you are." A bluff.

"Do you know?" adrenaline filled amusement, half knowing the boy couldn't know and half hoping he did to further humiliate him.

"You're my arch nemeses."

The grin widened all the way out and he stepped closer to where Sherlock still sat half propped against the wall with Cora know cowering beneath him. Sherlock watched every movement with intent, determined not to show fear, it wasn't necessarily the smartest decision.

"Very good." He crouched down till he was only a foot over the boy's head and blocked out most the light from his vision.

A flash. A vision. A reel of film playing out just behind his eyes. A memory perhaps? This man was there, so was John. A pool? It didn't make sense. There was very little movement, mostly just talking.

I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to talk to you, then you're going to kill yourself.

No. That was from a different time. Before the pool? Sometime after? It seemed circular, like the ending and the beginning were somehow the same. A man talking, another dying. _People die, that's what they do._

"Moriarty."

"Oh good. It will be more fun this way."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

A/N: I finally got the pleasure of watching someone read this story for the first time. It was the most rewarding thing in the world.

* * *

"I wanted to stay, I'd stay all night investigating or at least working the case, but well…" Lestrade bounced the young boy on his knee, John was barely awake.

"It's quite alright Gregory, Sherlock is clever-"

"But he's just a-"

"Even as a child. He's probably already planning his way back if he hasn't gotten away already. It wouldn't be the first time." Mycroft's head lolled to the side of the hospital bed. He had broken three ribs and badly sprained his wrist.

Lestrade narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean by that?" he recalled the two children that had been kidnapped from a boarding school, a case Sherlock had solved with dire consequences after seeming to know just a bit too much about the crime.

Mycroft sighed; the memory was painful. "When he was 7… well, our parents hadn't paid too much attention to him as he grew up." His eyes glazed over for a moment. "I was at Uni by then… I- I didn't know until after the fact."

"Go on."

"I'm sure it was an accident. Father did get an awful lot of mail those days." His defense seemed faulty at best. "When the ransom note went unanswered they tried to call-"

"He was kidnapped!? And you didn't even know about it!?"

It felt like a knife twisting in his gut- "I'm sure his absence just slipped their minds! He does spend countless hours sitting in silence after all…. But… yes. He was." In an incredibly rare act of nervousness, Mycroft bit his lower lip.

"How long was he gone for?" Lestrade couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sherlock. Kidnapped when he was 7 and no one had paid any notice. No wonder he was a sociopath. _No one cared for him, why should he care about others?_

"We got him back- unharmed I should add."

"How bloody long?"

The reply was mumbled and sheepish, "Nine days."

Lestrade leaned back in his seat in utter shock. "Nine fucking days."

"Mr. Greg." John's eyes fluttered open from his nap. "Dun say that."

Frowning, Lestrade gently pet the back of his head, supporting the small frame with his other hand on John's back. "Sorry."

John rested his head onto the DI's stomach.

" 'Croft is right, Sherlock's smart… but he needs our help." The small voice was muffled by Lestrade's shirt.

Mycroft looked the boy over, noting the fond manner in which Greg held him. "What do you plan to do with him?"

"Not sure. Can't just dump him at his flat though and you're spending the night here in case of a concussion. You uh, wouldn't happen to know of anything to turn him back would you?"

"Not off the top of my head. I'll be looking into it of course."

"Yea, good. Erm, well… John?"

John looked up, eyes half closed. "Mhm?"

"Tired? We can have a nice kip at my place if you like."

John nodded and laid back into the taller man.

* * *

"He has no use for you now of course." That dreadful hiss of a voice teased. "Do you remember him? How you use to impress him? Not any more of course, not without your brain."

"John doesn't care about that."

"Oh?" Moriarty forced his face mere centimeters away from Sherlock's. "I suppose he likes you for your charming personality and social skills then?"

The tiny detective cringed.

"Hit a nerve did I?"

"What do you want with me?" He tried his best to puff out his small chest.

Moriarty smiled- never a good sign. "Can't deduce it for yourself? Tsk tsk, you've lost your touch. You could always ask you little friend."

Cora covered her face with her small hands to escape his gaze.

_Not just beatings and neglect then. Psychological torture?_ But Cora was no one important, she came from a middle class family according to the news paper. Neither parent held an important job or position. She was likely taken at random due to convenience of opportunity.

Moriarty watched him carefully, "Watching your tiny mind whirl is fascinating. I could grow to like this even."

"Not going to kill me then?" Sherlock drawled.

"Dull, I've already done that. I'm going to take your innocence away instead."

Sherlock cocked his head, not sure if he fully understood what he was saying. Small gasps and sobs came from the shuddering girl next to him.

_ Defense wounds. Bruises. Short skirt. More bruises... very high on her legs..._

He returned his eyes to the psychopath, unaware of his expression.

"Not my style. But the kidnappers that helped me obtained you do have a price after all."

* * *

It was half an hour since Greg had tucked John into his own bed, making him look that much smaller. He lay flat on the sofa, hands bracing the back of his head as he stared at the ceiling. "Bloody kids." He whispered to the room. "They're both bloody kids." This was beyond acceptable. He needed his consulting detective plus one back. _Though, they did have their charm._

A scream broke his concentration and immediately the DI feared the worse as he jumped up and raced to the bedroom. Panting as he hovered in the doorway a moment seeing John was still there and not in immediate danger.

"John?! What is it? What's wrong?" He approached the bed after flipping the light on, only then realizing the boy was still asleep and fighting fiercely against the sheets. "…John?"

A smaller scream escaped him and the detective began to lightly shake his form. "John, wake up, come on. It's just a dream."

John jolted straight up, eyes wide in fear.

"Shh, it's ok. It was just a dream."

The former army doctor's hand instinctually reached for his left shoulder. "I was back in Afghanistan."

Lestrade could feel the chill creeping down his spine. "Does that… happen a lot?" The thought of a young child with PTSD from the war was highly disconcerting.

John nodded, "Sherlock plays the violin at night- it helps." His voice was stoic and very much that of the adult Lestrade was familiar with.

_'He's remembering.'_

Small eyes looked up at the DI, chin slowly starting to quiver.

_'no no no, don't do that…'_

"He's all alone." The trembling child's voice was back, fat tears falling onto his cheeks.

Greg crawled into bed next to him, holding the small body close. Situational awkwardness be damned, John need him and he was sure as hell going to do his best to be there for him.

* * *

_'Please find me soon John.'_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

It was near impossible to sleep on the hard cement floor of the celler, but Sherlock knew he must have dozed off at some point to be waking to the sound of heavy footsteps just outside the metal door blocking his escape. He lifted his small form up to find Clara had fallen asleep on him, apparently desperate for any form of human contact that didn't involve abuse. Sherlock pet her head indifferently the way one would to a dog, just enough to wake her up and move away from him.

"Sorry Sherlock! I was really tired last night and you're a better pillow then the floor, even if you are all boney."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance.

"You can use me as a pillow next time, I don't mind."

"Don't you have a plan for getting out of here?" His child's sneer wasn't nearly as threatening as the adult version.

Clara blinked dully at him.

"Fine, you're a frightened little girl, abused, and don't know where to go." He narrowed his eyes "I'll take you with me when I leave."

"Little?" She giggled, "We're the same age."

"Technically correct for the time being." Sherlock crinkled his nose.

Clara cocked her head in confusion, before she could ask what Sherlock mean by that, the metal door swung open.

Sherlock had expected Moriarty to come in with that horrid sing song voice he loved to mock people with, but instead, it was the two kidnappers from the zoo. He knew he should have given full descriptions of the two men to Lestrade when he had the chance, but with everything that had happened he hadn't thought of it at the time. He knew no one knew where he was or who had taken him now.

Clara sank back against the wall as far as she could, her knees drawn up defensively around her with her arms wrapped around them and face ducked down.

"Where's your pop now little brat?" the shorter of the two men squatted down to where Sherlock sat, a crooked smile showing his yellow teeth.

Sherlock spat directly into his eye; likely not a good idea in retrospect.

"Oi! You little shit! You'll pay for that!" the kidnapped grabbed Sherlock by the neck, pulling him up till his feet dangled beneath him.

His small hands instinctively grabbed at the kidnapper's wrist, he could feel his throat close off as he tried to gasp for air.

"Let him go!" Clara jumped up from her position and pounded her tiny fists against his legs.

The kidnapper laughed, the pounds were soft and he knew he could break Sherlock's neck with just a small amount of force, but he had other plans for the boy. With a quick thrust of his arm, the man threw Sherlock half way across the room. Sherlock landed awkwardly on his side, scraping his shoulder on the ground. He lay there panting a moment longer to catch his breath.

* * *

John rolled over unconsciously and plunked into Lestrade. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, nearly forgetting why he was in bed next to the DI.

"Greg! Wake up!" He crawled on top of Lestrade, softly hitting the palms of his hands again him.

Blinking awake, Greg sat up slightly, gripping onto John so he wouldn't fall off. "I'm up, I'm up!"

"We have to go find Sherlock." John pushed his bottom lip out.

"I know, I know. Let's just grab a quick breakfast first and we can go down to the station."

John wasn't wholly satisfied by this answer, but he knew it was the best he could get.

The DI was still putting the rest of his coat on with a bagel partially in his mouth as John dragged him outside to hail a cab.

John jumped in, sliding across the seat as soon as one pulled up, "Scotland yard!"

The cabbie raised an eyebrow in the rear view mirror towards Lestrade.

"Scotland yard please." The detective finished his bagel and watched John carefully. He was sitting at the edge of his seat nervously. "We'll find him, it'll be alright."

"You don't know that." John looked out his window away from Greg.

"Do you remember him? I mean, more then just yesterday."

"Not really. Just flashes." Turning back towards the DI he added, "Does it matter?"

"Hm?"

"He's my friend. It doesn't matter how long I've known him or how well I remember him."

Lestrade smiled and plopped his hand down on John's head, tussling the light blond hair. "Right you are."


End file.
